


whistle like a missile

by kendrasaunders



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Askfics, F/F, Trans Female Character, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:45:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: a series of askfics from my tumblr, ranging in genre + length, but all about avalance. enjoy!





	1. pretty/nasty

**Author's Note:**

> ava is a beautiful trans lesbian. she is trans always even if it is not brought up in a specific fic. kisses!
> 
> if you'd like to request avalance, i've usually got prompts floating around. drop a line [here](http://kendrasaunders.tumblr.com/ask) or just come say hi!
> 
> \--
> 
> places to hook up + against a wall

_against a wall_

_\--_

“You know,” Sara manages, her voice coming out hoarse. “Gideon said you were a bitch.”

“Aw, really?” Ava says, with the sort of not-smile that indicates she’s almost flattered. “Because you know, I’d rather be a bitch than a-” She shifts her knee. “ _Bitch.”_

“Oh, fuck  _off_ ,” Sara whines, straining against Ava’s arm. She cranes her head back, greeted by the familiar press of wall against her skull and suit jacket against her throat. “I’m not your bitch.”

“Well,” Ava says, kind of like a teacher would, and Sara doesn’t even know why her mind went  _there,_ “I’ve got you pinned to the wall, and you’re wetting my leg. That sounds like something a bitch does, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not wetting your leg,” Sara protests, gritting her teeth. “I’m just-” Ava hikes her knee up and Sara whines. “Okay!”

Ava purses her lips, that expression that pitying Sara finds so terribly infuriating, but she starts moving her knee ever so slightly back and forth, and if the fight had wound her up then this is wrapping strings around her fingers, that pressure of circulation getting cut off and the ache of blood rushing back.  

“Okay what?” Ava says. 

“I’m not saying I’m your bitch,” Sara says. “ _Bitch.”_

Ava drops her leg. “Have it your way,” she says, and her arm is gone next, Ava moving her hand so she can slick back her hair. “Round 2?” 

Sara throbs between her legs, her jeans still rubbing her in the worst ways. She curls and uncurls her fingers, making fists. “Fuck  _you.”_

“Fuck  _me_?”Ava asks. She beckons Sara forward. “Try it.”


	2. potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the way you said "i love you" + with a shuddering gasp

_with a shuddering gasp_

\--

“Sara,” Ava manages, her voice half a whimper, half a gasp.

“Shut up,” Sara says, pressing her coat down harder, watching white seep black-red. “Shut the fuck up. Gideon saves  _lives,_ and if she doesn’t, I’ll-” 

She doesn’t know what she’ll do, she doesn’t know because if she can’t lose Ava, too, she can’t fail someone else like this, she can’t put on faulty promises of revival when she has yet to follow through.

“I-” Ava says, her eyes fluttering. “Sara, I-”

“Don’t,” Sara snaps, her fingers getting wet and warm. “Do not say it. I swear to God.”

“What?” Ava says, and she’s still a little teasing, still a little coy, and Sara to take that as a sign that she’s not dying, she can’t be dying, she’s hurt but she isn’t  _dying_ - “I can’t tell you I love you?”

“Fuck,” Sara says. “Now you have to live.”

Despite everything, the shuddering gasps she’s using to speak, the pallid color of her face, nearly drained, Ava manages a wry sort of smile. “If you insist,” Ava says. “Captain.”

“That’s right,” Sara demands. “I am your captain, so you have to listen to me. You have to live.”

Ava groans, but weakly manages to bring her hand to her stomach, covering Sara’s own. “Okay.”

“And I love you too,” Sara says, angrier than she’s ever been. “I fucking love you, too.”


	3. cliché

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fictional kiss prompts + staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

_staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in_

\--

“Don’t worry,” Sara says, with a kind of irritating, know-it-all calm. “The team’s coming. They’ll find us.”

“I’m not worried,” Ava says, shifting her hips, ignoring the small noise Sara makes when she does. “Because I refuse to die like this. I will not let my body be found in this position.”

“Well,” Sara says, moving her knee. It meets Ava on the ass, and the pressure isn’t entirely unpleasant- Though the situation certainly is, if not unpleasant, then absolutely awful. “Look on the bright side,” Sara continues. “The ceiling isn’t coming down anymore!”

“That must be so nice for you,” Ava says. “Now that the room is at your height.”

“Wow,” Sara says. “I’m actually really proud of you. Making jokes in a time like this.”

Ava grumbles under her breath, wishing she could at least maneuver her arm to brush her stray hair out of her face. She wouldn’t even be able to touch her face without touching Sara’s, too, and the closeness of their bodies is both way too warm and way too familiar for Ava to be happy with.

“I don’t know why you’re so grumpy,” Sara says. Ava has no choice but to look directly at her face- It’s the only thing in her field of vision. “This is your fault.”

“I was helping you!” Ava protests. 

“I had this completely under control,” Sara says. “You following me is what activated this- Super cliche death trap thing.”

“I stopped you from getting crushed to death,” Ava says.

“Yeah,” Sara counters. “By the ceiling. No telling if your super strong thighs won’t finish the job, though.”

Ava swallows. “Can we not talk about my thighs?”

“I can’t not talk about them,” Sara says. “I literally don’t know where my legs start and your legs end, here.”

The tangling of their legs is unfortunate, to say the least. She’s been trying not to think about how close their privates are, has been mentally using the word  _privates_ to keep herself under control. If Ava lets herself think about it too intensely, things are going to happen in her pants, and then Sara will  _know._

“Have you ever played too hot?” Sara asks, and Ava finds it too overwhelming to look into her eyes. Whatever Sara is talking about has some kind of deviance to it, Ava can tell from the small spark that lights up when she talks. 

So Ava looks at Sara’s lips instead. It’s not helping.

“What’s too hot?” Ava asks.

“It’s a game you play where too people kiss,” Sara says. “But just kiss, no touching. And the first person to put hands on the other loses.”

“Sara,” Ava says, thinking of horrible, unsexy things, trying to keep a tight grasp on her composure. “We’re trapped in a vault, and you’re thinking about… weird party games.”

“So you don’t want to kiss me?” Sara asks.

“No,” Ava says.

“Because then you’ll get turned on,” Sara says. “And that means you’ll-”

“Sara!” Ava interrupts. “Stop.”

“I’m just trying to pass the time,” Sara protests. “And you’re the one looking at my lips.”

Ava is looking at Sara’s lips. That much is true. Because foolishly, stupidly, she’d thought they’d be better, but they’re kind of captivating, kind of entrancing. Slightly parted, taking short breaths, illuminated by the sheen of sweat on Sara’s skin.

“Ava,” she whispers. “Kiss me.”

“I can’t,” Ava says.

“Kiss me,” Sara says. “It’s criminal not to kiss me in this situation. Kiss me, kiss me. Kiss me!”

Ava feels her composure snap in too, her body flooding with arousal as she gives in, desperately closing the tiny gap left between her and Sara, and capturing Sara’s mouth in a kiss.


	4. essentially gymnastics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fictional kiss prompts + height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

_height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes_

\--

“Okay,” Sara announces, on a day where it feels far too early in the morning for her shenanigans. “Don’t lean down. I’ve got a plan.”

Ava looks over her shoulder, still idly stirring the water as her egg poaches. “Don’t lean down to what?”

“Just step back from the stove,” Sara says.

“I’ll over-boil my egg,” Ava protests. 

“You are an over-boiled egg,” Sara retorts, pausing for Ava’s trademark sigh of situational acceptance. “No, really, you’re gonna want to step back from the stove.”

If Sara’s bothering to give her warning, Ava might as well heed it- She’s having visions of boiling water being flung across the kitchen if she doesn’t.

Actually, she’s still having visions of it if she does, but the probability decreases, at least. 

“Hit me with it,” Ava says, putting her arms at her sides.

“Why do you look like I’m about to attack you?” Sara asks.

“Aren’t you?” Ava replies.

“I mean-” Sara purses her lips. “With my  _love.”_

Ava digs her feet more firmly against the kitchen floor, managing only to say, “Oh no,” before Sara runs at her across the kitchen, flinging herself at Ava, planting her hands firmly on Ava’s shoulders, kissing Ava quickly on the lips as she boosts herself up, and then dismounting.

“There!” Sara says. “Problem fixed!”

Ava smacks her lips together, considers what just happened, and rolls her shoulders. She opens and closes her mouth. She opens her mouth again and says, “What problem?”

“Our height problem,” Sara says. “First, I tried using paint cans as stilts, but then my foot kicked through one of them and wow, you should’ve seen how cut up my leg got, it was wild, and then after Gideon fixed me-”

“Why would you think paint cans would work?” Ava asks.

Sara nonchalantly waves off the question. “So then Jax was like, you’re pretty athletic, just vault yourself onto Ava, and I was like, that’s a GREAT idea.”

“It’s not,” Ava says. “What if I hadn’t stepped away from the stove?” 

“I told you to!” Sara says. “So you’re fine.”

“You could’ve thrown out my back,” Ava says.

“Gideon has a-” Sara gestures. “Thing for that.”

Ava lets her tongue sweep over her molars, lets her mouth hold that position as she collects her thoughts. She feels herself cock a half-grin. “Does being short really bother you that much?”

“What?” Sara asks. “No!”

The grin widens, becomes full. Ava plants her hand atop Sara’s head, pushing down gently. “My little Sara,” Ava mocks. “You’re so cute!”

“I will break your nose,” Sara says.

“Not for lack of trying,” Ava points out, leaning down so she’s at Sara’s eye level. “It’s kind of hot. How ridiculous you are.”

“You’re pretty hot too,” Sara says. “You know. For a tall egg.”

Ava can’t even consider that an insult, or even a joke- It’s just Sara. “Okay,” she says, leaning in to kiss her. “Short egg.”

“Fuck you,” Sara says, and bounces on her toes to kiss Ava on the lips.


	5. unfortunate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fictional kiss prompts + kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

_kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap_

\--

This is not the first time Sara has made a seat out of Ava. It isn’t even the second, or the third- It’s not unlikely for Sara, ever persistent in her need for affection, to simply knock Ava’s papers aside and straddle her, or, at the very least, plant her ass across Ava’s lap. 

“Sara,” Ava says, because this is a new, fresh hell, and she’s using her new, fresh hell voice. “What are you doing?”

Sara doesn’t even  _look_ at Ava over her shoulder. She’s too busy adjusting herself against Ava’s thighs, like Ava isn’t going to get hard if she  _keeps doing it._ “I’m sitting,” Sara says. “That’s what we do at team meetings. We sit.”

“You’re-” Ava takes a moment to scan the room, to see if anyone is even remotely bothered by this, or if she’s just losing her mind. Or maybe she has her mind, and everyone else has lost theirs, and now they’re making her lose hers by acting like it’s  _totally normal for Sara to sit in her lap during a team meeting._

“What?” Sara says. “We’re all friends here.”

“That is-” Ava tries to shove Sara forward a little bit, so at least she’s not- Directly on Ava’s pelvis. “The worst thing you could’ve said.”

“Zari’s on Amaya’s lap,” Sara says. “Ray sits on Mick’s lap, sometimes. If Kendra were here, God rest her soul, I’d let her sit on my lap.”

“Kendra’s not dead,” Jax says.

Sara ignores him. “You need to get into the team spirit, Aves. A little PDA is good for communal bonding.”

“Ava’s fine,” Ava says, still trying to wiggle away. She has spent an eon and a half trying to teach herself not to blush, and Sara’s thrown it in the wastebin in one swift, terrible move. “And I don’t need to… bond. Communally. I just need to-”

“Aves,” Sara repeats, insistent on the nickname. She glances at Ava over her shoulder, all blue eyes and shameless intent. “Re-lax. I’m just getting comfy.”

“What about me?” Ava asks. “I’m not comfy.”

Sara considers this the way she considers all things. She thinks too much with her mouth, with the sucking of her cheeks, and it’s distracting. And should be illegal. “I can fix that,” Sara decides, turning herself more towards Ava, so her legs hang over the side of the chair. 

She kisses Ava, one arm on by desk, the other wrapped around Ava’s shoulders. It’s messy and possessive in ways that make Ava question several things at once, not her affection for Sara per se but certainly her own composure. 

She probably shouldn’t let Sara’s tongue get anywhere near her right now. But that’s a lost cause. 

“There,” Sara says, and leaves a love-nip for good measure. “Way less embarrassing now, right?”

Ava is going to launch herself into fucking space. “Incorrect.”

“Ava,” Amaya says, sweetly. “You’ve got a little-” She gestures to her mouth, and continues gesturing for far too long, even as Ava makes no motions to wipe Sara’s lipgloss off. “It’s fine,” Amaya says, finally.

“Thanks,” Ava replies.

“I joined this team on the notion that maybe I could bring some order to the ranks,” Ava says. “Not that you would all… drag me down with you!”

“Well,” Sara says. “That was stupid.”

“Yeah,” Ava says.

Sara wiggles her butt against Ava’s lap, a fond kind of motion that sends sparks off in Ava’s brain. “Dummy,” she says, kissing Ava again, but on the nose. 

“Please wipe off your mouth, at least,” Ava says.

Sara just shakes her head in response, all close-lipped smiling and coy teasing.

Ava just groans, and settles for another kiss.


	6. yeti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> winter writing prompts + 122. “Looks like we’re stuck here until all the snow blows over.”

_“looks like we’re stuck here until all the snow blows over.”_

\--

Sara spares one last glance out the screen door before making the decision to slam the other, heavier door shut, and it’s the combination of that thick oak door, and the little noise Sara just made, and the face she’s now making, that give Ava sudden and intense fits of unease.

“Don’t say it,” Ava says. “Do not-”

Sara smiles, no teeth but all smugness, and says, “It looks like we’re stuck-”

“No,” Ava says. “I refuse to let this happen. I am declaring that this isn’t happening.”

“Here until- What?” Sara takes a step away from the door. “Did you have to do a seminar in positive thinking at the bureau, or some shit?”

“That’s besides the point,” Ava says. “We are not, under any circumstances, snowed in.”

“Uh,” Sara offers. “We’re snowed in under  _every_ circumstance.”

Ava shuts her eyes, balling her hands into fists. She straightens her shoulders, and sucks in a long breath.

“Come on, Aves,” Sara says. “Where’s that positive thinking?”

“I only made it past declarations,” Ava says, finding herself more tense the longer she keeps her eyes closed, her face scrunching in frustration.

“Oh,” Sara says. “Whoops.”

Ava let out a puff of an exhale, opening her eyes, relaxing her nose, her mouth. She crosses her arms. “I need you to tell me you’re not going to be intolerable about this.”

Sara looks up at Ava, eyes as honest as she can manage, and shakes her head. “Promise.”

“Then what are you doing now?” Ava says.

“Oh,” Sara says, and finishes pulling off her sweater. “I’m getting naked so we can cuddle in front of the fire together.”

Ava makes a move for the door. “We need to go out there,” she says. 

Sara catches Ava by the wrist, bringing it to her own collarbone. “You will die and get eaten by the Yeti.”

“There is no Yeti,” Ava says, her thumb idly stroking the collar of Sara’s thermal. Her thumb’s a damn traitor, is what it is.

“Could you stop being such a shit and just get  _into_ this?” Sara says. “We’re  _snowed in_ together.  _Alone._ It’s fucking romantic.”

“I’m not big on romance,” Ava says. 

“You’re big on everything,” Sara offers, her tone the very veil of sincerity. “You’re like eight feet tall.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ava says, which is when Sara expectantly hops on her toes, and Ava instinctually leans down and kisses her. “Brat.”

“Serenade me by the fire,” Sara says, dripping with dramatics. “Make love to me like it’s the  _first time.”_

“No, I’m gonna go out into the snow,” Ava says, decidedly, bumping Sara with her hip. She wraps her hand around the doorknob, planning to go out at least a foot, to make a point, but finds the door’s already locked.

“Oh, babygirl,” Sara says. “The key was in the door when we came in. I have it.”

“I am not,” Ava turns on her heel. “Your  _baby girl_.”

Ava can’t quite determine where Sara’s decided to hide the key by reading her expression, just that Sara’s got an upper hand. “Don’t you wanna be?” Sara asks, moving to put her arm around Ava’s waist. “It’s cold and dangerous outside.” She presses herself against Ava. “Let me keep you safe and  _warm.”_

Ava tongues her cheek. “See if there’s a fireplace in the bedroom,” Ava says. “The carpet looks uncomfortable.”

Sara beams with victory. “I don’t know how to light a fire,” she says. “So you’ll have to.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ava says. 

“And can you make me hot chocolate?” Sara says, now just leaning on Ava entirely. “I’m getting  _cold.”_

“Where’s the key, Sara?” Ava asks.

Sara just laughs.


	7. gift receipt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> winter writing prompts + 8. “Thanks for the.. Uh.. Gift?”

_8\. “thanks for the.. uh.. gift?”_

\--

 

“Aves!” Sara announces, walking in through the watch-portal with the kind of casual ease Ava has only ever seen on dogs. “Happy Hanukkah!”

Ava isn’t entirely sure why Rip had let the Legends steal his watch- Okay, so she is sure, but if she pretends they aren’t there, it’s usually easier to live her life.

And a big, crucial part of that pretending requires sara not to use the portal watch.

Ava puts her hand on her stapler, just to be safe. Projectiles are always handy. “What?”

“You know, Hanukkah,” Sara says. “The festival of lights? Latkes? Menorahs?”

“No, I know what Hanukkah is,” Ava says. “I just don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“Uh, celebrating Hanukkah, anti-semite,” Sara says. “Jeez.”

Ava looks at her stapler, and then back to Sara. And then back to her stapler. And then back to Sara. “That’s not- I didn’t-” Ava puts her free hand on her forehead. “Please just make this as painless for me as possible.”

“That’s the Hanukkah spirit!” Sara says. She pulls a flat, rectangular package out from under her arm, wrapped with all the finesse of a six-year-old. “Here you go.”

Ava stares down at the thing that Sara has put on her desk, covered in tape and with “To: Aves” written on it in silver marker. “Aren’t you deadly, or something?” Ava asks. “Don’t you have the most precise aim of anyone here? How are you this bad at wrapping presents?”

“Uh, the League of Assassins only gives gifts in bags,” Sara says. “Or boxes. That’s not- I wasn’t trained in  _gift wrapping_ , okay? I was actually banned from the gift wrap at Sink, Shower, and Stuff.”

Ava looks up at Sara, trying not to think about this meaning anything, or this gesture being nice. “You are just a nightmare and a half, aren’t you?” Ava asks.

“Open the present, grinch,” Sara says. 

“The grinch is Christmas,” Ava says. “Not Hanukkah.”

“I will staple your face to your desk if you do not open that gift,” Sara says. 

Ava raises her eyebrows.

“Oh wow, big surprise, you were thinking about using your stapler as a weapon! I have eyes, Aves. Open the present.”

Ava kind of wishes Sara could be a bit easier as a person, more capable of fitting into something neat and tidy. She’s dumb when Ava thinks she should be smart, but it seems to be on purpose, and she’s annoying as all hell but only because Ava hasn’t told her to leave yet. “Fine,” Ava says. “But if it blows up, I will end you.”

“It won’t,” Sara says. “It’s not a gag. I promise.”

Ava slips her finger under one piece of tape, then another, then a third one. She gets eight pieces in before she realizes opening this thing neatly is impossible when it’s wrapped like this, and tears the paper.

It’s a frame. It’s a picture frame, larger than most photos usually are, and- There’s a photo. Of Ava. In the frame.

“Surprise!” Sara says. “Gideon records all of the transmissions on the ship, audio and video. So that’s the exact face you made when you realized I was about to kill us both. I thought it would make you think of me!”

“You,” Ava stares at herself. The sort of wide-eyed disbelief she’d had, the anxiety written in lines across her face. Her upper lip is slightly curled, a little disgusted, and she looks like she’s about to just start screaming. “You went back and- Found this exact moment?”

“Yep!” Sara says.

“And then you… printed out a photo of it?” Ava continues.

“You can see I did.” Sara says.

“And you framed it,” Ava finishes.

“Well, it’s a shitty thing to just give a photo as a present,” Sara says. “And it’s a nice frame!”

It isn’t. Ava’s still too shocked on the photo itself to comment on it.

“Do you love it?” Sara asks.

“Am I-” Ava looks up at Sara’s expression. And fuck, her eyes are always so bright and blue and shit. It’s distracting. “Supposed to?”

“Yes!” Sara says. “It’s from my heart!”

“Then-” Ava pulls her lips up in what should be a smile, but is absolutely a grimace. “I… love. It. Thank you. Captain Lance.”

Sara beams, and she’s so genuine about it that Ava kind of wishes she could like this horrible, terrible gift. “Good,” Sara says, and she leans in to kiss Ava on the forehead before Ava can stop her. “We’re doing latkes tonight on the ship. I’ll come pick you up in a couple of hours.”

“What?” Ava says, which seems to just be her Sara setting. “You can’t just-” And the portal closes behind Sara again, leaving Ava alone in her office.

“I have plans!” Ava announces to no one, even though it’s a lie. She knows Sara well enough to know she’s now got to go out and get a gift in return before dinner, which just seems exhausting. 

She looks down at the photo of herself again, and wonders if she actually looks that stressed out all the time, or if that’s just Sara’s magic. “You need to relax,” Ava says. “They’re- Not that bad. Sara is… nice.”

The picture of her yelling seems to disagree.

Ava puts her face in her hands. “Oh,” she mutters. “For fuck’s sake.”


	8. blink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> winter writing prompts + 17. “It’s New Years, aren’t you going to kiss me?”

_17\. “it’s new years, aren’t you going to kiss me?”_

\--

Ava Sharpe is… not drunk.

She’d like to  _be_ drunk, and she’d like to be inside, and not out in the cold. 

She’d like these people to stop trying to blow themselves up, for once.  _For once._

But here she is, in a ridiculous hat, with a glow stick shoved in her pocket, as these idiots make absolutely debauchery out of New Year’s Eve.

“I really-” Ava says, fidgeting with the hat on her head. It’s got  _lights_ on it, and it’s  _heavy_ , and she knows they’re all laughing at her about this. “I just came to say happy new year, really, and then I was just going to-”

“Nope!” Sara declares, poking Ava in the chest. “You crashed our party. So now you have to stay.”

“Can I take the hat off?” Ava asks. 

“You can take off your lights and sounds elf ears when you are  _dead,”_ Sara says. She’s got a red plastic cup of something that is probably, likely, turpentine and fruit punch, but fuck if Ava doesn’t feel like she could go for a cup.

“I promise you,” Ava offers, trying not to look at the glitter Sara’s smeared all over her chest and collarbone, wondering why New Year’s Eve means wear a big white coat and a tiny tiny tank top underneath. “I was not trying to crash. I just wanted to give well wishes.”

“Boring,” Sara says. She grabs Ava by the wrist, and lifting her arm. She tucks her fingers under Ava’s, uncurling them, before she smacks her cup into Ava’s palm. “Drink.”

Sara’s antlers light up, and part of Ava wants to point out that she is  _Jewish,_ and part of Ava finds the blinking lights sort of mesmerizing, in their own way.

She lifts the cup to her lips.

“Oh,” Ava says. “It’s just… punch.”

“Zari doesn’t drink,” Sara says. “So we’ve been trying to keep certain holidays sober for her. We drank on Beebo’s Day Eve, so she gets New Year’s.”

“That’s…” Ava looks into the neon red of the cup, and licks the sugary sweetness off her lips. “Really kind of you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Sara says. “We’re kind of the best people ever.”

“You’re saying Beebo Day ironically, right?” Ava says.

“Yes, nerd,” Sara says. She reaches up and fondly tugs on one of the elf ears on Ava’s hat. “Everyone knows it’s Leif Erikson Day.”

Ava raises her eyebrows. “Is that-”

“It’s a reference,” Sara says, waving it off. “I mean, like yeah Leif Erikson was there and shit, but- I’m joking.”

“Okay, good,” Ava says. “Because having to cycle through three types of Noel was not fun, let me tell you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sara says. “As a member of the oldest practicing monotheistic religion, your culture’s strange glowing elf hats are a mystery to me.”

Ava grins despite herself, despite knowing it will make Sara smile in return, like she’s  _won_ something, because she’s made Ava  _laugh._

“It is…” Ava considers her path carefully, knowing she’s already too far in. She’s wearing the elf hat. “Stunning. That you are sober.”

“I’m my own party,” Sara says, with the kind of confidence no one should have when declaring themselves a one person party.

“You know,” Ava says. “It’s New Year’s. Shouldn’t we be- You know?”

“I’m sorry,” Sara says, and when she tilts her head for emphasis of her point, her antlers jingle. “Are you coming on to me?”

“No,” Ava says. “I was just going to say- I mean, at midnight- If you-”

“We should start now,” Sara says. “For practice.”

“Okay,” Ava says. “So you’re coming on… to me.”

“I always am, Aves,” Sara says, taking both elf ears in her hands to hold Ava’s head in place as she kisses her.

Something like relief unfurls in Ava’s chest- It won’t be longlasting, not with the likelihood that she’s going to get strapped to a firework, at some point.

But Sara’s lips are steady, if not also too glittery. And Ava knows it’s going to get smeared on her face, and Sara tugging on the damn hat can  _not_ be good for Ava’s neck, and Sara’s whole entire  _team_ can see them kissing right now-

Ava finds she doesn’t really mind.


End file.
